


Out of Order

by Cam-buir (LadeeCam0)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Spoilers, oh my god they were roommates, platonic intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadeeCam0/pseuds/Cam-buir
Summary: Two refugees become operatives for the First Order in a bid for their own safety.





	Out of Order

_for all those caught in the crossfire_

This was not the main First Order academy. Only the most elite were sent there, though General Armitage Hux and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren did come to our class cohort to explain what would happen.

“There might be some among you who are Force-sensitive,” the mysterious Supreme Leader rumbled. His helmet seemed strangely small compared to the massive shoulders under his robes. “But, that doesn’t mean you will be Sith Lords or even Knights of Ren. There are varying degrees of sensitivity and trainability. This academy here on Sizjinder meant for those who aren’t the best.”

“But, that doesn’t mean you are useless,” Hux added diplomatically. “The Resistance believe that only the best are of any use. They are disdainful of the common beings of the galaxy. They don’t understand the position their arrogance has put the bulk of worlds in. We, the First Order, understand the importance of those who aren’t the elite. Do we value the elite? Of course! That’s who the primary academy is for. But academies such as this one will train you, the common folk of the galaxy, to operate in the shadows of plain sight to help prevent the Resistance from plunging the galaxy further into chaos.

“It’s their arrogance that ravaged your worlds,” Hux continued, rallying us. “They have no concept of true leadership. They fight against us because they know we truly have the ability to lead the galaxy. They turned your homes into battlefields because they could not accept their own obsolescence. That’s why we brought you here.”

“Depending on how you fare in your training,” Kylo Ren said, “you will either be sent to a more advanced academy for further training or you will be given tasks fitting your abilities.”

“My lord, will you and General Hux be overseeing our training?” a green-skinned Twi’lek asked. Eir right _lekku_ seemed to be prosthetic from about half way down. I didn’t know much about Twi’lek physiology, but I knew their _lekku_ , what some racists called “head tails,” were sensory organs that could be very sensitive. I could only imagine what pain having that severed must have been like.

“No,” the Supreme Leader replied simply. “General Hux and I are needed elsewhere. You will be taught by those who graduated from the elite academies and have shown to be worthy instructors.”

“Remember: the Resistance thinks common people like yourselves must be protected,” Hux said, as if trying to soften the Supreme Leader’s words. “We will show them how uncommon the common people can be!”

“You will assemble in this hall on the equinox at dawn,” Kylo Ren commanded. “Do not be late.”

“Why do I get the feeling that’s our first test?” a human woman next to me asked.

“It probably is,” I agreed. 

She nodded. “I’m Neserta Amima.”

“Dubindaz Zorgu,” I replied, shaking her hand. “From Tenorhell.”

“I’m from Altorei,” Neserta said. “Or, what’s left of it.”

“Let me guess. It was one of those worlds that had to be devastated or destroyed to be liberated, right?” 

“Yup. Yours, too, huh?”

“Alright!” Quartermaster Pilm Gadnos, the academy master—a nondescript human male with a suspiciously Coruscanti accent—called us to attention. “You’ve got two days until the equinox. Take quarters wherever you please in this building. You’ll find all you need for the program of study in any of them. You’re all here for a common purpose so I trust you can find your own lodgings amiably.”

“Looks like you two humans are wrong,” the Rodian sitting in front of us turned around to say. “The first test is finding a room without killing each other!” E winked one big dark eye and went off in search of quarters, humming a tune to emself.

“E’s got a point,” Neserta said. 

“Yeah. Hey, d’you think we should share a room?” I asked. “I’m not trying to get into your flight suit. I’m just thinking safety in numbers.”

She looked around. It did seem like similar species were already grouping together. “Sure, let’s try it. This is an old university campus, so the dorms are probably multi occupancy anyway.”

We took a room which did thankfully have multiple bunks on the third floor of the main dormitory, then went in search of food. That seemed to be yet another test. Though the buildings at our disposal had many creature comforts of civilization, the kitchens were not stocked or staffed. The materials in our room described that there were a limited number of speeders at the academy for our use. Teaming up was advised. Some team members would be able to travel to the nearest town for supplies while others were take the classes and train the foragers when they returned.

When the equinox came, we reported as commanded to the main instruction hall. The overview of the First Order Civilian Corps seemed to go on and on. 

“I guess that makes us Foccers,” the Rodian from orientation day muttered. 

The afternoon into the evening was questionnaire after questionnaire and a battery of aptitude tests. The whole first month was teaching us about the First Order and what our roles in the Civilian Corps would be. In the second month, we were issued weapons. They were the types any civilian might have for sport or hunting. Most blasters were not particularly high-powered or long-range. Slug-throwers were a little more common. But, those had all been modified to be rapid-fire with the flick of a switch. I was issued a Blastech EN-2 slugthower. Only, where the magazine on the side should be was a power booster, effectively increasing the range of the weapon. The magazine was in two sections: one built into the handgrip and a high capacity one built into the fold-out stock. And, it was one of those that could alternate from semi automatic to fully automatic fire. Nerserta got a Drearian Defender-5 sporting blaster. But one with a detachable stock that was also an expanded power pack, turning this sporting blaster into an insurgent’s weapon easily.

It was starting to get a little too real for us, Neserta and me. We were being trained to do what we could to help bring this war to an end. That part seemed alright. But that we were being trained to kill without question? I mean, if somebody was trying to kill me, I would do everything in my power to stop them, including killing them. But, it was like we were being told we would need to kill even if it was just other common folks just like us. 

“The Resistance will no doubt try to conscript civilians for covert operations as well,” the academy master lectured. “A person might look like a civilian, but they could be an enemy operative. 

A lot of the academy’s facilities and methods seemed somewhat out of place with the First Order. It was almost as if they were trying to suggest a kinder, gentler Empire. There were roof gardens on most of the buildings, but they were on the roofs of the second to the highest floors. In the main dormitory building, this would have been the roof of the second floor. And with no windows on the inner walls of the very top floors, the gardens had some degree of privacy. They were like little rectangular oases among the permacrete architecture. But in keeping with the academy’s philosophy, there were no stairs or ladders or lifts from the very top level roof down to the level of these gardens. True, it was no more than about three meters. In a way, it was another test. Force-sensitive beings could get down into and up out from these gardens with ease. Those of us who weren’t Force-sensitive had to jump and climb.

And there were no days of rest at the academy. While the training wasn’t difficult in and of itself, it was relentless in its own way. It was obvious we weren’t being trained for active military tasks. It was more like we were supposed to be sleeper cells spread throughout the New Republic’s systems. 

One day in late autumn on this planet, Neserta and me were just wandering around the roof. Despite the season, the weather was rather mild. But, being this close to the planet’s equator meant there wasn’t much variations in temperatures throughout its year. It was a strange thing, to walk along the roof looking down into these gardens, seeing others from our cohort relaxing, discussing strategies, practicing unarmed combat. You could tell who really wanted to be a part of the First Order and who was there because they felt it was the best option for survival.

“Let’s try this one,” Neserta suggested when we came to a roof garden with several small pools. Some were steaming, some looked chilled. It was obvious there were different pools for different species of beings to enjoy. We chose a pool marked _Human Hot Pool_ , stripped out of our clothes and lowered ourselves into the heated water, which wasn’t much warmer than average human body temperature. So, not really “hot,” despite the sign. 

“I just felt like there wasn’t a place for me in the Resistance,” Neserta said, snuggled up to me. While we weren’t romantically involved, we had a platonically intimate relationship. “Officially, Altorei is— _was_ neutral in this war. But neither the Resistance or the First Order seems to really care about the world. It’s not like the entire planet was completely destroyed, but it’s gonna take centuries for the ecosystem to fully recover. I feel like both sides make promises, and I’m no soldier.”

“Yeah, I understand.” My situation wasn’t all that different from hers. Tenorhell was technically still habitable, but much unlike what it was before. Though there was one continent which had been pretty much glassed. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I confessed. 

“I’m thinking up something,” Neserta said. “Let’s make it through some more training. I might have a way to get us out of this. See if you can get as much training as possible in the Skyhopper. I’ll study astrogation.”

“Okay,” I replied uneasily.

It turned out her plan was solid. Me learning the ins and out of an Incom ship meant I could pilot just about anything that manufacturer made. Her studying astrogation made the Quartermaster think we’d be a good team after all. Initially, he thought we’d roomed together for sex. And we did try it, but found platonic intimacy was more our style than a sexual friendship. I think the First Order would have preferred there wouldn’t be any emotional attachments among operatives. But if our duties were to be as regular civilians, the closeness made sense. It was a natural society cover. And it really worked out perfectly.

“Zorgu!”

“Yes, Quartermaster?”

“I want you to try the T-181,” he said. “The controls are the same as those of the T-16, with the addition of ion engines capable of space flight. It has a hyperdrive, but it’s weak. Only class 13.”

“There’s a class 13 hyperdrive?” I was genuinely surprised by this.

“Yes,” Gadnos sighed. “It wasn’t one of Incom’s most successful innovations, but it’s designed to make interplanetary jumps within a star system. While this means much shorter range, it allows for the hyperdrive unit to be smaller and more efficient. When you’ve mastered this, we’ll have you and Amima deployed via a carrier cruiser to the D’Qar system. We’d like you to set up there as refugees. You’re back story will be that you’re salvagers looking among the First Order and Resistance wreckages both on-world and in-system. From there, you’ll await further orders with the hyperwave transceiver built into the T-181’s comm system.”

“Yes, sir.”

He grunted. “Get to the main landing field. They’re prepping the T-181 for you as we speak. Dismissed.”

The Incom T-181 was the vessel of choice when you absolutely positively didn’t care about getting caught. Because there was no way that ship would outfly or outfight anything. I guess Incom had tried to make a combination landspeeder, airspeeder, and spacecraft. It was a complete compromise in all ways. But, it could do all of those things. And since the First Order and gotten a hold of this one, they at least upgraded the shields to be military grade. It’s only armament was a medium blaster cannon turret, mostly designed for interplanetary debris. But upgrading that would have attracted too much attention, or so they said.

It was a very boxy craft, with room for up to five beings if they were really good friends. The cargo hold was modest, and designed to be accessed from both inside and outside the ship. It had a peculiar life support system. The ship was designed to be opened to the vacuum of space, pumping the air into the sealed cargo hold, so the occupants could do work outside the ship either in no atmosphere or in unbreathable atmosphere. Neserta and me were provided with pressure suits which looked like the ancient relics they were. But, they worked.

Part of our backstory as salvagers was that we had been trained in ship maintenance and repair. This meant they taught us how to remove and replace components for a lot of common manufacturers. Incom, Subpro, Sienar, Correllian Engineering, Kuat. Whatever we couldn’t memorize, we were given references for. It was like they were handing us everything we needed to escape. 

“I don’t like it, Nes,” I said one night in the pool. This time we brought towels with us so we didn’t have to parade stark raving naked back to our room. “It’s like they’re handing us our freedom on a shimmersteel tray. A ship plus all the know how to swap out any component? It’s like they want to lose us in the galaxy.”

“Maybe they’re trying to win our trust?”

“So, what do we do?”

“What can we do, Daz?” she asked. “We take our first assignment and try to figure out a way to get out of as fast as blastedly possible.”

Our first assignment came on Sizjinder’s winter solstice.

“Amima, Zorgu! Here are your orders,” Pilm said when we arrived in his office. “A transport will take you and the T-181 to the D’Qar system. It’s not interdicted, but it’s likely you’ll encounter patrols. You’ll have credentials issued by the First Order granting you salvage rights. Doubtless, the Resistance will be trying to get with with forged credentials, so please be patient as it could take a while for you to get cleared to make planetfall. We will be communicating with security in that sector, so they’ll know to expect you. They’ll have a hyperspace booster ring for your ship there, in case you need to get off world and out of the system and a carrier can’t be spared for you. Any questions?”

“They’re aware of the Civilian Corps?” 

“Yes, Zorgu. There was talk of keeping this division top secret, but ultimately General Hux thought that might cause more problems than it would prevent. So, they know about this program and will be expecting you. Their engineers are currently constructing a permacrete shelter there. It’s basically a garrison, but geared more toward civilian use. You’ll eventually have more companions on world. The First Order is hoping to reclaim it, and other worlds like it, quietly.” 

“Okay,” Neserta said, shaking her head. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” the Quartermaster replied. 

We spent the rest of the day getting ready, packing most of our clothes and things into the T-181, keeping only our clothes for the next day and our weapons separate. Our pressure suits and salvage gear was loaded into the cargo hold for us. Even this close to the equator, the winter solstice wasn’t all that mild so we skipped the pool that night and retired early to our room. The next morning was breakfast at dawn and then out to the landing field.

“The carrier is in orbit,” Gadnos told us. “Go straight there and the crew will handle everything else. Oh, and it’s procedure for you to leave your weapons in your ship, just so you know.”

The flight up to the carrier was textbook stuff, all by the numbers. It seemed somebody thought we were a bonded couple, as we were given a stateroom with a single, large bed. Well, platonic closeness was a lovely thing. The crew probably thought we’d have sex and we really didn’t see any point in try to convince them otherwise. Once folks have made up their minds about who’s banging whom, it’s almost not worth the effort to explain the truth.

We hadn’t been on D’Qar long when the orbital security forces were called away to Crait and then onto other systems. We saw this as our chance and took it. The cargo hold was set to be the air chamber. Paring our belongings down to what we could cram into the rear passenger seats, we donned our pressure suits and prepared to lift off.

“Okay, we have all the components we need?” I asked.

“Spare navicomputer and comm system,” Nes said, patting the container on her lap. “Let’s go.”

Our take off and flight to the orbiting hyperspace booster was smooth. At that time, we were pretty sure we were the only sentients on D’Qar anyway. Others weren’t expected to arrive for two standard weeks. Before docking with the booster, we depressurized the cabin. Everything was so smooth until Nes removed the navicomputer and its transceiver.

“Hello Dubindaz, Neserta,” the holo image of General Hux said. He looked nervous when I was expecting him to be smug. “If you’re viewing this, then I know what you’ve done and what you’ve probably going to do. But since the ship—and I use the term “ship” loosely—you stole from us had been stolen _for_ us before, consider it a Solstice gift. You are but two mundane beings in a galaxy of trillions. You’ve pulled nothing over my eyes. I know you have no intention of completing your assigned tasks. Good luck with whatever you choose to do and wherever you choose to go. The galaxy is at war. Perhaps some like you who run and hide will survive. Many will not. More will be subjugated if you choose the wrong side.

“Enjoy your lives wherever you settle. I won’t waste resources hunting you two down. But, pray we never meet again. You could be executed as deserters if we do. Farewell.” The transmission ended. 

“What do we do now?” I said.

“First, we do this.” Nes tossed the original navicomputer and comm system out her open hatch, then fired on them with the T-181’s blaster turret. She sealed her hatch and we repressurized the cabin.

“Now we go to Takodana,” she said. “There, we’ll sell the booster. Who knows what’s been sliced into its systems. Then we hire a transport to take us to Baritooine. It might not be the center of the galaxy, but I think it’ll be good enough a place to settle for now.” 

“Okay. Let’s set our course.”

There was no doubt the First Order could find us if they wanted to. But among the millions of planets and trillions of beings in the galaxy, we could hide safely in plain sight. Hux would be too busy to bother with us for some time. Or so we thought.

Having found a transport pilot willing to take up a cargo bay with our stolen T-181, we settled on Baritooine in a megacity called Ujoj built almost entirely from deep space shipping containers. Though we kept up our platonically intimate friendship, we really didn’t settle _together_. Yeah, we lived in the same housing complex, but we had separate dwellings. It was an ideal situation. We shared ownership of the T-181 and ran a localized shipping service. It didn’t make us rich, but it let us survive, which was all we really wanted to do. One morning some years after we settled, we received some news about General Hux.

“He was a spy for the Resistance!” Neserta said, reading the report, while we shared breakfast in her quarters. “That’s why he let us go! It wasn’t because a dilapidated Incom T-181 was worthless to the First Order. Well, I mean, it probably wasn’t worth all that much. But there wasn’t any tactical data in its computer banks. He let us go because he was a traitor to the First Order!”

“Well then, I guess we should give our T-181 a name,” I said, sipping my caff. “How about the _Armitage_?”

**Author's Note:**

> From a dream during the night of 21-22 December 2019. Though the dream seemed set during the New Sith Wars with the Brotherhood of Darkness, I chose to set this story between "The Force Awakens" and "The Rise of Skywalker."
> 
> Some other fun things:
> 
> * Pilm Gadnos is an anagram of "limp gonads".  
> * The Volkswagen Type 181 "Thing" is one of my favorite cars and was the inspiration for the Incom T-181.  
> * The BlasTech EN-12 Slugthrower was inspired by the STEN submachine gun, the predecessor to the Sterling, which was the basis for both the E-11 and DH-17 which were the first blasters shown in Star Wars: A New Hope.


End file.
